


Of almost everything

by honeynoir (bracelets)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-05
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracelets/pseuds/honeynoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, among other things, Rory has to pretend to be the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is like... semi-crack.
> 
> Written before series 6, i.e. we didn't know River was a Pond.

Rory noticed _it_ while he was helping the Doctor ("helping", in this case, meant handing the Doctor various implements, picking up what he dropped, pressing a few buttons and keeping the stepladder from sliding all over the glass floor). _It_ was a small blinking light on the TARDIS console. It was decidedly inconspicuous, and still... there was something odd about it. "What does this one do?" he asked the Doctor.

The Doctor, teetering at the top of the ladder while sonicing a coiling mess of wire hanging out of the ceiling, barely glanced down. He waved his least-full hand airily. "Oh, something. They all do."

"Has it even been here before? I don't think I've seen it? Is it recently... grown?"

"Of _course_ it's been there before." The Doctor peered very closely at a particular part of wire, paying not much attention at all to either Rory or the blinking light.

Still, something felt off to Rory. (And as far as the Doctor's driving skills went... well, Rory had the bruises.) He tapped a part of the console that seemed free of things that could be depressed, nudged, rolled or flicked. "Um," he said, leaning toward the view screen, "Can I talk to River?"

"Of course you _can_ ," answered the Doctor, "but it won't do any good."

"I was talking to the TARDIS."

"You'd better not be cooking something up with her! She's very vulnerable now, I'll have you know. I bet she won’t even have enough power to locate River. Very delicate mending job..."

"Yeah... five minutes ago you said the only thing you were doing up there was rewiring the toaster."

"Well!" said the Doctor. "I'll have you know that I _lied_."

At this point the view screen gave a merry _bleep_ and produced a real-time feed from the library. A great many of the other little lights on the console blinked in a way that made the Doctor press his lips together, teeter even more, and wag a finger all over the place.

The screen showed River and Amy, both stone-faced, playing tic-tac-toe on an ancient gambling table. (It was a remarkably clear picture; Rory could see every little blot of ink.) They were surrounded by precariously wobbling stacks of books, a reorganising project the Doctor had started a month or so before; it was to be finished "later, Ponds".

Rory cleared his throat. "River?"

River raised her quill from an inkpot and scratched a decisive _X_ into the wood of the table. "Yes?"

"I have a question about the TARDIS and the Doctor is... not available."

(The Doctor was waist deep in the ceiling by this point, but still managed to convey his opinion by snorting very loudly.)

"What question would that be?"

"It's about a little light."

Amy whooped suddenly and waved her quill about in a cocky way.

River offered Amy a grin and bowed her head in defeat. "Rory... Is the little light between an internal stabiliser and the gravitational analyser?"

"Yeah, I... think it is. It hasn't been there before?"

"No, I installed that two days ago."

"What!" shouted the Doctor (his voice was somewhat muffled), and immediately afterwards there were a few minor crashes and some really very impressive showers of sparks.

Rory glanced there quickly, then very pointedly looked back to the screen and tried not to sigh. "You're coming, right?"

"We're on our way," answered Amy.

The screen went blank.

"That light?" asked the Doctor, now at Rory's elbow, pointing somewhat irritably to a completely different bulb.

Rory nudged his hand to a fair bit to the side. "That light."

"Yes, well. I thought she said next to the gravitational _re_ -analyser. You try hearing much of anything up there." He dusted himself off, activated the sonic screwdriver and scanned the little light.

Amy and River entered shortly afterwards.

The Doctor was fairly livid, which he expressed by pointing at River while staring rather menacingly. "You've put a tracker in my TARDIS!"

"It's not a tracker," said River, approaching the console. "It's a device that searches certain databases for mentions of me."

"What kind of mentions?"

"Certain wanted-mentions."

The Doctor spluttered. "No, no, no! None of those! If that's the way it's going to be -- Out! Out now!" He moved his arm until the finger pointed to the door.

"Let’s see, first," said River, entirely calmly. "Might be only disorderly conduct."

She pressed some buttons and prodded a few others, and the screen brought up:  
 _zzs-dd78. wanted: the doctor. last seen in the company of river song (see notices #344, #346, #7889, #56771 […]_. After that followed a stylistic but definitely accurate computer-rendered picture of the Doctor.

"I hate being wanted for something I haven't done yet", the Doctor muttered and folded his arms. He was suddenly quite composed.

"Right," said River, extracting her journal out of a book bag that undoubtedly was specially made for it. She flipped through the book, skimmed a few pages, snapped it shut. "Doctor, how about we give your future self a helping hand?"

"I'm sure I would appreciate it."

"Wonderful, I'll take care of it! Although... Rory, I might need your help."

"My help?" said Rory.

"Yes," said River, and raised a brow. "I need you to wear the Doctor's clothes."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Rory intended to make his feelings known with a few well-phrased sentences; somehow, however, all that came out was, "What?"

"I need you to wear the Doctor's clothes." River cocked her head to the side and smiled in a manner that said she expected opposition. 

"Yes. Right. I got that. Why?"

"They'll be helpful when you tell people you're the Doctor."

"When I tell people what?"

"Yes, River," interjected the Doctor, sternly, "When he tells people _what_?"

River sighed, patiently. "When he tells people he's you."

"We are not putting Rory in danger because of future-me."

"We _aren't_ putting Rory in danger because of future-you. You'll understand. Later."

"We are not putting Rory in danger at all!"

"We _aren't_ putting Rory in danger! At all!"

"Well, future-me is putting him in danger!"

"No, you're not! I can promise you as much."

At this point Rory decided to try his hand at forming sentences again. "I think I'm the person who should decide."

Amy raised her brows and spread her hands. "So, Ror, do you want to?"

"Spontaneously... it's not at the top of my list."

"And if you think about it?" asked River. "The chance to wreak havoc in the Doctor's name?"

"When you say 'havoc'-" the Doctor started, but Amy mercilessly elbowed him into silence.

Rory thought about it. As the Doctor he would – well, he'd have to wear those clothes and act like an eccentric alien, and he'd have to... do whatever he wanted, and be smart, and possibly somehow save something from something. Could be... fun, actually. "There's not, like, a Dalek invasion or something?" He put his hands firmly on his hips to avoid the urge to draw an imaginary sword.

"There is no Dalek invasion," River said, with utter sincerity, clutching her journal.

"Right." Rory looked from her to the surly Doctor, from him to the smirking Amy, from her to the still-blinking light between the internal stabiliser and the gravitational analyser. "I can give it a try."

"Are you sure?" asked the Doctor, frowning.

Rory shrugged. "If I can help, I'll do it."

River exhaled visibly, then drew herself up. "Good. For the next few hours, nobody question me." She turned to Amy and the Doctor. "Sweetie, you have to hide. You should be a tourist, I think. Amy, you should probably look after him."

"So..." said Amy, "the Doctor will be dressed as Rory?"

"The Doctor will most definitely not!" said the Doctor, very loudly.

" _The Doctor_ ," said River, "will go to the wardrobe and pick out a coat that isn't too conspicuous. He'll change his shirt and remove his bowtie. And he'll remember that I am immune to passive aggressive dressing."

The Doctor clapped a hand over his bowtie. "I'm not removing it!"

"Yes, you are."

"Are you going to make me? You and what space-time paradox?"

"Yes." River laughed and brandished the journal. "And I'm not slipping up _that_ easily."

Amy slapped the Doctor right on an elbow patch. "Just take it off!"

He glared at her, then slowly raised his gaze to a point above her head. "And that!" he shouted, making Amy jump. "My poor TARDIS, left like that! Look at that hole!" He hurriedly rounded the console and the fallen stepladder. Looking supremely worried, he stared up at the hole.

"Oh, so that's why all systems work satisfactorily?" asked Amy. She nodded to the view screen, which said: 'diagnostic complete: all systems work satisfactorily'. "I suppose the toaster isn't as important as you think."

The Doctor frowned at the hole. "Oh, thank you," he muttered. 

River snapped her fingers once; the sound echoed far more than it should have. "It's very sweet of you to worry, but now you're starting to waste time."

"Waste time! Think of the situation! Think of Rory in my clothes, think of the TARDIS, think of-"

"You without a bowtie?" Amy supplied.

River pursed her lips. "Everything will be fine. Now, dear, toddle off and fetch one of your shirt-bowtie combos for Rory. Preferably not the most flamboyant one."

"What? This one doesn't do? The Red One doesn't _do_?" The Doctor caught Rory's gaze. "Rory?"

Rory faltered. "Well... you're wearing it. Right now."

"Yes! Doesn't it do?"

"Yes, but... It's not my colour? And you're wearing it."

"Oh, fine! I'll fetch the Blue One." The Doctor passed a hand over his face and came toward them, utterly displeased. 

As he passed them, Amy punched him on the shoulder and Rory went for a confident smile. Just when he was about to pass River, she held out a hand and said: "I need your jacket. It will do."

The Doctor peeled off his jacket and handed it to River, looking dazed.

River draped the jacket over an arm and offered him a tiny curtsy. "Thank you."

He stared from River to Rory to Amy, while pawing at his pink shirt. "Fine. _Fine_. Why even bother pretending I'm a tourist? Why don't I just stay here? Why don't I stay and fix the TARDIS? Why don't I just hide under a bench in the arboretum? I'm going to hide under a bench in the arboretum."

"If I have to say things like that," said Rory, "I've changed my mind about this."

"It sounded better in my head!" the Doctor announced haughtily, turned abruptly, and stomped up the stairs.

Rory and the two women watched him disappear into the correct hallway. 

"What's with the old man?" asked Amy.

"Oh, he's trying to handle the situation," answered River. "It's not going very well."

"River..." said Rory, turning to her. "This is going too fast. Why can't the Doctor be the Doctor? Is it that bad?"

River looked grimly determined, but her voice was light. "It's nothing like what you imagine, I can tell you as much."

"But there'll be... stuff happening? I mean, we're not going to spend two hours at the beach, are we?"

"There might be stuff. We'll handle it." She put the journal back into the book bag, dumped that on the floor, and turned to the view screen.

Amy sidled up to Rory and rested her chin on his shoulder, the coconut scent of her shampoo enfolding them in a fragrant cocoon. She slid her left hand down his right arm, entwined her fingers with his. Though the inevitable smirk was on her lips, her eyes were rather soft. He thought she understood. She said, "Just have fun with it, eh." 

"Fun." Rory smiled. "I'll try."

She squeezed his hand and winked. "You used to be a great Doctor." Yeah, she understood.

"So, Amy," said River, turning the view screen in their direction, "what do you want to know about sightseeing in the Belt?"

 

The Doctor returned surprisingly quickly, wearing a frown and a white shirt. He carried a bundle of dark fabric under one arm and had the blue-patterned shirt and the matching tie draped over the other. He looked decidedly odd without a bowtie, but seemed to have accepted the loss of it. Although: "I kept the braces," he said, in a voice one did not argue with.

River resolutely snatched the shirt and tie and handed them to Rory.

The dark fabric, when unfolded, turned into a plain-ish dark grey coat and a Proper Smart Hat, as Rory's grandfather would have said. "Sooo..." said the Doctor, vaguely angrily, while shrugging into the coat, "What am I supposed to be?"

"Anything you like," said River. "You're a tourist. Please curb your hubris, though. If you and Amy are ready, you can leave now."

Rory scrutinised the blue shirt. "Will this fit me? How does it even fit _him_?"

"Be glad you don't have to wear the trousers," said Amy, impatiently. She squeezed the travel folders the TARDIS had printed into the pocket of her leather jacket. "Why doesn't he, though?"

River sighed. "Rory, you can wear your own shirt. I think we'll manage with the tie and the tweed. That answers your question, too, Amy."

"I'm still having second thoughts about this idea, which makes them, well, seventh thoughts, actually," said the Doctor. "Rory, you don't have to."

"I'll be fine," said Rory, with actual confidence. "I'm slightly excited now."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah... Yeah. It'll be fine. I'll just shout out 'I'm the Doctor' and everyone'll scatter."

"Mmm," said the Doctor. "Works every time, that." Then he cleared his throat and put on his hat.

"River!" said Amy, zipping up her jacket. "You'll take care of Rory, yeah?" 

River glanced at Rory. "We'll take care of each other."

"Great!" Amy skipped up to Rory, tickled his stomach and pressed her lips to his. "Don't get too fond of the bowtie, 'kay?" 

The Doctor nudged Amy aside and unceremoniously pressed his palms to Rory's cheeks. "Oh, Rory, you'll make a wonderful me!"

"I'll try," said Rory, as best he could.

The Doctor gave Rory's face a few pats and withdrew. "River," he said, holding up a finger, "you promised."

River gave him a rather tight smile and inclined her head.

"Come along now, fake Rory!" said Amy, took the Doctor by the hand and led him to the door.

"Have fun!" called Rory, in that husband-y voice he had somehow developed during their first week as a married couple.

"Remember," said Amy, blowing them a kiss over a shoulder, "River's as scared of you as you are of her."

Then she and the Doctor were out the door and the TARDIS was suddenly very quiet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [promethia_tenk](http://promethia_tenk.livejournal.com) for her helpful crit on this and previous chapters. Much appreciated! :)

Rory intended to avoid River's gaze, which naturally led to him immediately catching it. "She's joking..."

River grinned. "Well, to be fair, you are imposing." 

He cleared his throat in a not-at-all-awkward way.

"I actually voted for you as the person I'd like to wait out danger with," she said.

"Voted?"

"Oh, it was a hypothetical waiting, of course. A game, Amy's idea. Quite unofficial. Future lazy timeless moment in the TARDIS, you understand."

Rory pursed his lips. "The 's' word."

"Yes. Though I think it's safe to reveal you're also the only person the Doctor would consider growing savoury onions with."

"I'll remember that... Anything else?"

"I can say that Amy and I will have _quite_ an interesting conversation," said River. And then she winked.

A decidedly-awkward warmth took over Rory's face, for some unfathomable reason. To his relief, a great piece of ceiling chose that moment to make a noise, fall down, and catch fire.

 

"Doctor," growled Amy. "You're tieless! Face it!"

The Doctor clutched at his collar. "There's a draught now. My throat is cold. That is a direct result of my tielessness."

"Mmm, and that pathetic noise you keep making... also a direct result or..?"

"Could be!"

The clouds above were undulating ceaselessly; the sky was all foggy pastels and a suggestion of sunlight. Amy and the Doctor ambled arm-in-arm in the colourful light, heading for what was unmistakably a shopping street. Amy was excited. The Doctor was not. (Indeed, he had been so perturbed he'd taken three steps on the planet surface until he’d realised _he_ hadn't landed the TARDIS, which had made him quite cross, which had manifested itself in an intention to go back inside and lecture River on property and common decency, which had led to Amy intervening, which, in turn, led to the arm-in-arm situation.)

Amy used her free hand to extract the travel folders from her pocket. She thumbed through them. "Where do you want to go first? We've got singing houses, a soap bubble farm, a fairy lights museum…"

"Are those the places River _approved_?"

"Oh, you're still pouty." She scrunched her face up until her expression was one of faux-concern. "Get over it!"

"I noticed you – she – omitted Lisa's Confectionary and the birthplace of Oom Lamb. They're close, and far from any other sight." He smiled in a much too pleased way. "I've been here before."

"Maybe no one's interested in them anymore? They don't sound interesting."

"When they're popular forty years from now? I don't think so."

She scowled. "I'm going to have to thank River for omitting those."

"Hence, Pond... There's where Rory and River will be."

 

Rory hefted the (frankly rather small and unimposing) piece of limp fabric that would turn into a bowtie. A hint of noxious smoke was still lingering at the back of his throat, and he bit back a cough.

"Can you tie it?" asked River, who was replacing the fire-extinguisher under the staircase. (The TARDIS had helped them put out the fire and apologised for the interruption. Rory had promised himself he would clean one of her pistons or something as a thank you.) 

"I think I'll manage." He unzipped his orange cardigan and threw it on the console seat. His own dark green shirt wouldn't match the bowtie, but at least it didn't have a weird pattern.

She approached him, brushing a great many unruly strands of hair out of her eyes. "I'm not sure the collar works with the tie, but it'll have to do."

He fumbled with the collar and the tie, but somehow it ended up the way it was supposed to be, and almost immediately. "And I'm wearing the Doctor’s bowtie."

"Yes, you are... and it's crooked." She reached toward it; tugged slightly at one loop, then the other. "We have to leave quite soon, are you ready?"

"I have to... impersonate him, haven't I?"

"If you like. It would certainly help if you at least tried."

"Can I have a few minutes to prepare?"

"Not _minutes_ as such. You can have the time it takes to get yourself into the jacket."

"Right," he said, and shortly thereafter, "Right."

"Right," River supplied. Her fingers kept brushing his Adam’s apple and it was not entirely pleasant. It was not entirely _un_ pleasant, either.

"Can't I... get into character?"

"Sweetheart, I hardly think another minute will make pretending to be a few millennia old alien any easier."

"Right. I'll settle for being quite, quite mad, then."

"Sounds about right."

"Any advice? Helpful hints?"

"Be keen, be bold, don’t stop to think." The corners of her mouth twitched upward, and he really did not want to know what she was thinking about. Thankfully, all she said was, "That'll do." She gave the tie another miniscule tug sideways and leaned back. "And _that_ will do."

Rory considered the situation. Once in place, the tie hardly bothered him at all, actually. 

"Next step," she said, and held out the tweed jacket.

With her help, he wriggled into it. He could have sworn it felt tight in a few places and that the sleeves were a bit off, but when he rolled his shoulders a moment later, nothing tugged at all; and when he looked down at the sleeves, they fit quite well.

While putting on her own jacket – a thin, blue, waist-length one – River explained it by saying, "The Doctor's clothes are a bit special," which wasn't much of an explanation at all, really. 

The lining was quite nice, though, and the tweed smelled like the Doctor (or vice versa, it was oddly comforting nonetheless).

"Time's up," she said, and extended a hand. "Come along. _Doctor_."

Rory wiped a hand on his trousers – his own dark jeans, thankfully – and took her hand. They headed for the door, and he took a deep breath.

"You behave now!" River called out, and the TARDIS lights flickered in response.

 

On the other side of the door, Rory took another breath. The air was clear, chilly, and smelled distinctively of cucumber. He glanced up at the magnificent sky and straightened the jacket. 

River produced a key from the breast pocket of her blouse and locked the TARDIS.

"You've got a key?"

"Several, darling," she said, replacing it and closing her jacket with an enormous clasp. "She likes variety. Shall we go?"

"We probably should."

"We'll head to the right. It's a bit of a walk."

 

The Doctor and Amy walked slowly along the shopping street, regularly bumping into shoppers wearing various garish clothes and various imaginative hairdos. Amy looked in the holographic windows; the Doctor looked at his shoes.

"I didn't even get to see what Rory looked like," he said.

She glanced at him. "Shouldn't that be my line?"

"I said it first."

"We'll see him later. I can talk him into keeping your clothes on for a while."

"Or we could see them now. Lots of corners here." He stopped, a gleam in his eye, and tried to free himself from Amy's grip by wriggling his arm a lot. "If River asks, I was very meek and stayed here all the time and did not follow her and I absolutely did not peer around corners."

Amy tightened her grip on his arm lazily. "We're staying. I like the sound of a soap bubble farm."

"We can be their backup. We can hide behind a rubbish container. Rory is clever, and River is clever, but what if they need... one of the Olden equations? Neither of them will know those because you need a brain like mine to even remember them and to apply them you need to –"

"I doubt it."

"Really? If it should happen, how would they manage, do you think?"

She shrugged. "Don't question the power of River's diary."

His face hardened. "You put entirely too much trust in River Song! Remember, future me was last seen in _her_ company and now I'm wanted."

"She promised it wouldn't be dangerous."

"She could have lied! It's easy, you just open your mouth!"

"Ohhh, low points for the Mrs."

"No!"

Amy dropped her voice. "You worry too much."

The Doctor froze; then rubbed his forehead; then nudged his hat a little further back. He looked a tiny bit sheepish, and quite old. "Talking about hiding under a bench was a step too far, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. By then you were just whining. You haven't stopped yet."

He frowned. " _Can_ I stop, then?"

"Nothing's going to happen. River sent us _sightseeing_! Nothing is going to happen."

"Believe me, something is going to happen –"

She rolled her eyes and pulled him along, brandishing the folders. "Come on! Sights to see!"

"And when it happens," he continued, straining against her pull, "I won't know what's happening!"

 

"She used to make me dress up as him," said Rory. They had been walking for a rather long time, amongst architecture that looked very much influenced by 21th century, Earth. "Her mum thought we were silly."

River nodded, staring in a completely different direction.

"Of course, that was a regular tie and trainers... Still feels a bit weird, though, this."

"Would you like to talk about it, or..?"

"I really don't."

"Vague allusions it is, then."

"And now?"

"Now we find someone who's searching for the Doctor."

"Of course we do."

 

Outside a building which claimed to house the soap bubble farm, Amy poked the Doctor on the shoulder.

The Doctor, who was staring at a help-screen trying to deduce whether or not entrance was free for humans under thirty, said: "What?"

"I see a tiny invasion."


	4. Chapter 4

There were only three of them, and they stood quite still, but something about these newcomers commandeered the attention of the entire street. Their dark, bulky armour was ominous. The rods they all held were imposing. Their – thankfully – still holstered weapons looked decidedly unsavoury.

A few of the locals fled into shops; most of them simply fell still, clutching their purchases awkwardly.

The Doctor turned his head in about fifteen directions before homing in on the invaders. "Judoon..." he said, in a final kind of way.

"Are they the ones who sent out the wanted notice?" asked Amy. "And what kind of heads do they have under those helmets? Shouldn't you hide or something?"

Only a dozen shops separated these Judoon from the Doctor... and the enormous iridescent holographic soap bubble he was standing beneath wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

"Invasion," said the Doctor, quite obviously to himself. " _HA_!" And then he set off toward the Judoon, weaving between the shoppers.

The Judoon, as one, set off toward him. They didn't weave as much as they elbowed.

Amy caught up with the Doctor, her heels making an inordinate amount of noise now that everyone else was quiet. "We're doing something, yeah? Despite River's journal entry?"

"That can just write itself." The Doctor stopped abruptly, straightened his bowtie-less collar and his not-tweedy lapels. He whipped off his hat and pressed it into Amy's hands. "Very important... don't assault the Judoon. They don't like it."

Amy, who had eyed a few discarded hard-looking fruit-like things nearby, pursed her lips and put on the hat.

 

Rory tugged at the tweed jacket. He was acutely _aware_ of it.

"Are you getting along with the jacket?" asked River, pointedly. She had grown tense; the streets in this part of town were narrower, decidedly darker, and full of criss-crossing shadows. 

"I have a Roman breastplate in my closet," he said. "This feels oddly normal. It's just... I just... it's not mine."

"You're doing fine."

"Glad to hear that." Rory reached out and patted her on the shoulder – surely that was an appropriate sign of marital affection _somewhere_. 

River frowned. "The walk, though... Could you make it a bit more –"

"I've tried. I think he must have more joints than I do."

"There's that. How do you feel about tripping over that pebble? Just stumble a bit. I'll catch you."

"I feel like I would sprain my ankle and you would have to carry me. Is that okay with you?"

"You're not an optimist, are you?" She took a step closer to him, lazily entwined her arm with his. "A man is watching us. To the left, in the shadows."

At this, Rory stumbled all on his own. He forced himself to look at River's face and not toward the shadowy bit of street ahead. "Is it the harmless sort of person or the... other sort? Should we talk to him?"

"I don't think he matters," she said, but steered them every so slightly further to the right.

"But you're not sure?"

River grinned, which didn't seem entirely appropriate. "So, _Doctor_ , I'm curious... How would you deal with an invasion? Hypothetically?"

 

The Judoon stopped as well, not three feet from the Doctor. Amy kept to the side, near the fruit-things. Just in case.

The crowd finally moved; pulled back. Half of the locals stared, transfixed, at Amy and the Doctor. The other half stared at the three invaders.

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm started to shriek.

The Doctor stared at the Judoon-in-the-middle, and announced: "Judoon Leader! You're looking for me!"

The angle of the Judoon Leader’s helmet changed minutely; the alien looked the Doctor over.

"Go ahead; scan me. You're looking for me. Confirm it."

The Leader raised the imposing-looking rod and waved it in the Doctor's face. A moment passed, and then another one, and then he said: "No."

 

Rory took a deep breath and tried to put the man in the shadows out of mind. They must have passed him by now, anyway, and out of sight... "Hypothetically, I would use my words. And then I would run."

River grinned wider. "Works almost every time. How would you rescue me from a hotel where everyone else is a Zygon?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Oh, no. Hotel. Zygons. Me. Chemise."

He cleared his throat. "I'd... trip the fire alarm."

She laughed. "That would work. I prefer that to what actually happened."

"What did _I_ actually do?"

"You threw a carpet over yourself and ran down the corridor, shrieking. The dirtiest, smelliest carpet in the entire place."

"Of course I did."

"How do you like your tea?"

Rory shrugged. "Ridiculously sweet on any given Monday."

"Good," said River, slightly distractedly, while she glanced over his shoulder.

He pretended not to notice. "Why are you questioning me?"

"It passes the time."

 

"No? What do you mean 'no'?"

"No," said the Leader again, in exactly the same way as before.

The Doctor frowned excessively, drew himself up, and generally emanated an air of ancientness. "I'm the _Doctor_!"

None of the Judoon seemed to care at all.

"You're _looking_ for _me_."

The Judoon Leader seized the Doctor's hand and drew a fat black line across the back of it with the other end of his scanner rod. Then he turned the rod over again, shouldered the Doctor out of the way, grabbed the nearest young man and scanned him. 

The other two Judoon followed suit; people screamed and scattered.

The Doctor hurried after the Leader, gesticulating with his marked hand. "Stop that! I demand to know what I am wanted for! You're _looking for me_ , do you hear! What do you mean 'no'!"

 

"What did he – I – do? Why am I wanted?" The hairs on the back of Rory's neck stood up; he wanted desperately to turn around.

"In here." River released his arm and nodded to a shop, which, by way of a glaringly yellow sign, proclaimed it was Lisa's Confectionary. "You go first."

The door was open and Rory entered with an impressive stumble (River's hand on his back had a lot to do with that). Inside, the shop was all buttery yellow light and bowls of sweets and –

"Ahh, _Doctor_! How nice to finally meet you!"

Rory had dreaded a scenario like this (well, minus the confectionary) ever since he'd left the TARDIS in a bowtie... To top it all off, the phrase was delivered – rather theatrically – by a disembodied voice.

_Perfect._


	5. Chapter 5

The Judoon drove a gaggle of people down the street. Every now and then they separated a young male from the group and scanned him, before unceremoniously discarding him with a fresh black line drawn on the back of a hand. 

These young men were left in their wake, along with a lot of dazed people, a lot of trampled goods, and Amy and the Doctor.

The Doctor stared intently at the backs of the Judoon; he was decidedly perturbed.

Amy swallowed, stuffed the folders back into her pocket, and wrapped her arms around herself. “They’re looking for Rory-you?”

“They’re not scanning _clothes_. If they were looking for a Time Lord they would have found me.” He glared at the back of his hand and seethed a bit.

“So… they’re really not looking for you at all?”

“Maybe they aren’t,” he conceded, unwillingly. 

“What about Rory and Ri-?”

Amy was cut off by an uproar: a few un-scanned people tried to flee into a shop, which prompted the Judoon to immediately unholster their weapons. She held her breath; but the troublemakers returned to the group, and soon they had all disappeared around the far corner.

As soon as they were out of sight, the Doctor clapped his hands, and – once the people left behind had given him the attention he wanted – bellowed, “Raise your hand if you’re hurt!”

Not a single hand was raised; most of the dazed locals were standing up and brushing themselves off.

The Doctor gave them two thumbs up. “We’ll be back in but a moment! Be nice!”

Amy frowned. “What are you doing?”

He lowered his voice, leaned closer. “We need to stop the Judoon before someone decides to fight them. If we double back and make it across a roof or two, we’ll cut them off before they reach the singing houses. I think.”

“You think?”

“Run!”

 

“Come in, come in, Doctor! This place is usually open only for guided tours, but I’ve made an exception.” The man was quite tall, quite covered in yellow fur, and quite swathed in a yellow cloak.

“How very kind of you,” said River. She tapped Rory on the shoulder. “Introduce me.”

“Uh,” he said, “this is River Song.”

“Oh, I know,” said the man. “My name is Leerd.”

The door swung shut, which did nothing to lessen Rory’s discomfort. There was something lurking in the shadows outside, and now he was shut in with a man who apparently had something against the Doctor… and _now_ the jacket had started to itch.

He was fully aware that a tall, yellow man in a cloak wouldn’t make the Doctor bat an eye, but it was surprisingly hard not to stare. He also realised that not batting an eye was not exactly the same as not blinking, as that earned him a stern look from River.

“Would either of you care for the shop’s most famous sweets?” Leerd was very meticulous with his movements. Now, he motioned very definitely to three great jars on the counter. “The Sour Bomb, the Belt Special Extra Sour, and the Sour Sour.”

Rory declined, in what he hoped was a graceful manner. And then he blinked.

River helped herself to a Sour Sour – a knobbly yellow thing – and slipped it into a pocket when their host wasn’t looking.

Leerd showed them to a group of easy chairs in a corner. He retrieved a notebook from a fold in the cloak (River tensed) and took the seat with its back to the door. River chose the chair that faced the door; Rory got the one that was left.

It was a small place, Lisa’s Confectionary; there was only the counter and the chairs and a gnarled machine that sat on a pedestal and routinely spat out a purple, spherical sweet into an enormous bucket. The walls – including what looked like windows from the outside – were lined with shelves that held jars with sweets of all appearances (hardly any looked tasty).

Leerd was staring reallyveryhard at Rory, gazing from his trainers to the jacket to the bowtie. Rory ruffled his hair a bit, but it was too short to achieve that right sort of flair.

“Should we start…” Leerd looked eager, activated the notebook. “What’s your name?” 

Rory leaned back in his seat. “The Doctor,” he said, with what he hoped was conviction. (He was more than a little worried this little chat would end with his (well, the Doctor’s) arrest, and it was hard to act, uh, normal.)

“And that is an alias?” 

“Um…” Rory glanced at River. 

“Call it a nom de plume,” she offered.

“Oh, that’s sounds good,” said Leerd. “I’ll just write that down. How old are you?”

Rory cleared his throat. _Was it 908 the Doctor had said? Or 909? Best to be vague_ , he decided. “I’m not comfortable answering that.”

Leerd seemed oddly pleased with that answer. “Where are you from?”

“Um… I’ve forgotten.” _Yeah, the conviction was definitely slipping now._ Rory reached up and fiddled with the bowtie; it was surprisingly comforting.

The fur on Leerd’s chin quivered disappointedly. “Can’t you tell me something about your planet?”

“Well, no… I don’t want to. It’s a sore spot.” He hoped that would be enough to scare Leerd off the subject.

It was not. His fur quivered in a different way, his eyes lit up and he leaned forward. “Oh?”

“Not only is it a sore spot, it’s also completely impossible for me to talk about it without mentioning myself and _that_ would destabilise the entire time-space… continuum.”

“That wasn’t at all what I expected… Hmm. Let’s move on. What do you like?”

“Well, that depends on how you define _what_ and then _like_.”

River winked.

Rory felt a little pleased. 

Leerd pouted. “I just need a few examples…”

“All right,” said Rory, “I like bowties and headgear and crashing parties and over-sweetened tea and dancing weirdly… Things that are blue, meeting people, helping. Things like that.”

Leerd scratched his forehead, stared at his notes. “Also not what I expected. This is fun! Let’s see, where were we… What are your strong suits?”

“I save the day.”

“And you do it so well. You wouldn’t care to elaborate?”

“I wouldn’t, no.” Rory crossed his legs and straightened his spine and resisted the urge to groan.

“These people that travel with you, who are they?”

“They’re my friends.”

“Well, I understand why you would travel with your wife, but the others… Who are they?”

“I would get lonely without them.” Rory frowned at River, willing his eyebrows to convey his firm belief that this was Not Going Well. River frowned back, and there was nothing but vigilance in her expression.

Leerd nodded, almost respectfully. “And the business in the sister Belt? Was that as unpleasant as it sounds?”

“It wasn’t nice.”

“You did some glorious work, there.”

Rory raised his chin. “Thank you.”

“What about the-”

River cleared her throat. “Can we move on, or are you going to offer him a job… or a date?”

“I’m just taking notes,” said Leerd, glaring at her. “There’s a great interest-”

“Do you have something to tell us or not?”

“Tell you? I thought _you_ were telling me things?”

River pursed her lips. “We’re interested in anything that has to do with wanted notices.” 

“Oh, yes! How silly of me! I remember now…” He drew himself up importantly. “There will be a sphere.”

“A sphere?”

“I don’t know any more, that was all he said.”

“Who?”

Leerd looked very much confused now, clutching his notebook to his chest. “I was under the impression that he knew you.”

Rory did not look forward to searching for yet another person searching for the Doctor. (Still, he couldn’t help but be relieved he wasn’t being arrested.) “Who did you talk to?” he asked, frustration seeping into his voice. 

“I’ve offended you! I didn’t mean it!”

“No, no, you haven’t, if you’d just let me-”

Leerd clutched the notebook harder. “I’m sorry, Rory!”

“What?” said Rory, clutching the armrests.

“What?” said Leerd, bewildered.

“What!” said River, standing up.

Leerd stared at Rory. “Well, you _are_ Rory, aren’t you? I can’t fathom why you’re going around calling yourself ‘the Doctor’, if I’m completely honest. Or is it ‘Rory’ that’s an alias? Uh, nom de plume? It’s an honour, either way!”

Rory gaped in a not-very-fetching way.

River put her hands on her hips. “Who exactly are you and what are you doing here?”

“I’m Leerd, and this is where I was told to meet you.” He met River’s glare; his fur quivered demurely. “I work in tourism and am in charge of composing an article. I’m also supposed to ask about statues.” He turned to Rory. “How do you feel about statues?”

“Statues of…?”

“Well, of you, naturally.”

Rory racked his brain for a polite response. “Can I think on it?” 

“Of course, of course. You can find me at the tourism department.”

“Thank you for your time,” said River, and made her way to the door. “Come on, Rory.”

Rory scrambled to his feet and followed her.

“Thank you!” cried Leerd, rising hastily. “One last question, do you mind?”

River had already opened the door and peered out, but Rory conceded. “Go ahead.”

“Are they really that cool off-planet?”

“What?”

“Bowties? The man who implored me to call you ‘Doctor’ assured me they were.”

“Yes, they are,” said Rory, more forcefully than he’d intended.

 

A quick run, an even quicker climb, and a whole lot of scrambling later, Amy and the Doctor entered an alley via a completely illogical roof, a rubbish skip, and a few random crates. In the nick of time, too; the Judoon had yet to reach it, but a rabble of angry locals had gathered.

 

“What was _that_?” asked Rory, looking back at Lisa’s Confectionary.

River had stopped close to a lamppost and was flipping through her journal furiously. “I have no idea. I didn’t get the details.”

“But you knew something would happen! You knew we were going to talk to someone!”

“I did.”

“That is so… so tedious!”

“Right, _Doctor_. You know what’s tedious? Paradoxes.” That said, she ripped half a page out of her journal and handed it to him.

Rory looked at it. It was just a piece of paper on which something was written, but the handwriting was… his. The slant, the loops… It was definitely, absolutely, gut-wrenchingly _his_ writing.


	6. Chapter 6

So, the funny thing was that Rory had spent a fair amount of time staring up at his bedroom-at-home ceiling thinking about time and time travel and paradoxes and Amy and stuff. He was certain he’d once, fighting sleep, promised himself that if he ever were to contact another Rory, he would not be vague and he most certainly would not be annoying. And yet, this was what River’s journal page had to say:

    You’re wearing the bowtie now, yeah? So, this is all my idea. Somehow. Ask River, or don’t, she won’t answer anyway. You’ll understand later, obviously. Remember all those books you read. I convinced the Doctor I’d go through with this, he tells me it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry! (River: we agreed on Lisa’s Confectionary. The TARDIS is keen on us leaving. The Doctor adds: person you should talk to, bring me a sweet.) 

“I don’t like this, for reasons that should be obvious,” he said, folding the paper scrap and shoving it into a jeans pocket. “I just… don’t!”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but trust yourself and don’t worry!” River, having replaced the journal, took him by the arm and led him back the way they had come. The tweed tightened uncomfortably when it was pulled on; Rory had not much choice but to move.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know any more than you do, now.”

“You might be lying.”

That made River laugh.

Night was falling; the clouds rolled darker in the sky, what artificial light there was shone brighter, and the air acquired a scent of lemon. The shadows were absolutely everywhere, now, hopefully devoid of mysterious men.

“Is that a nightlight or something?” he asked, hoping to distract River so that he could free his arm. (And to be fair, he _really_ thought it was an alien nightlight.)

River stopped dead and tightened her grip. “Do you _think_ it is?”

It was a shapeless, continually moving, shimmering pink blob; somehow it was far more repulsive than it ought to be. It moved towards them, and the faint glow is cast illuminated a fair bit of street. It _could_ have been a nightlight, except now Rory realised it could also be something else. He made a face. “That’s the sphere? That?”

“Well, it is roughly spherical… now and then.”

“Do we run or does that look suspicious?”

“We don’t move. It should stop soon.”

It did. Unfortunately, it still gyrated haphazardly in midair. Rory felt a little sick.

River let go of him and stepped to the side. “Stand still. It’s going to scan you.”

“But is it looking for the Doctor or for _me_?”

“I have no idea! It’s more likely it’s the Doctor!”

“Why is that more lik—urgh!” Rory squirmed. Being scanned felt much like being tickled, all over and all the time.

An hour later or so (according to his fuzzy estimation), River asked, “Is it still scanning?”

“Yes,” he croaked. It was starting to become really very unpleasant.

“Stand like the Doctor.” 

Rory did his best, while grimacing and squirming some more.

“No, angle your feet the other way! Don’t step out of its range! Close the jacket!”

“Still scanning, River!”

“Let me!” River snuck up behind him. She rested her chin between his shoulder blades, grasped his hands and placed them firmly on his hips. Then she reached around and buttoned the jacket. “Maybe we should have taken the shirt as well,” she murmured, “and the trousers…” 

“Still not helping, and now it looks like I have four arms!” 

River hissed, and then subjected him to a lot of knee-bending, arm-angling and hair-fluffing. “Did that help?” She pulled her arms back and stepped to the side. Frowned. “No… Maybe you should take it all off instead?”

The sphere continued to scan.

“Shoooo!” cried Rory, illustrating what he wanted the sphere to do with a series of excessive hand movements.

The sensations stopped. Just like that. Rory swayed into River’s arms. He felt like he’d been through a thorough deep tissue massage. 

The sphere, still gyrating lazily, somehow projected a block of text in an alien language onto the cobblestones.

Rory stretched. “What’s it doing?”

River frowned at the projection. “It’s found out you’re really a human in a bowtie… and it doesn’t care. It’s transmitted its findings…”

The sphere swivelled slightly to the side; it obviously had its sights set on River.

She blew it a kiss, pulled out her gun and shot it. 

It made far less of a mess than Rory would have thought. “Why did you do that? And why didn’t you do it before?”

“Because this is about _you_. Come on!”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the TARDIS! I’m certain that sphere transmitted to the Doctor’s psychic paper.”

 

In the alley, the gathered locals were agitated. Some hefted weapons. They all stared intently at the junction where the Judoon would show up. A few of them had looked over their shoulders and recognised the arrival of Amy and the Doctor, but quickly turned back again.

The Judoon were getting closer: the steady echo of heavy boots and the occasional distressed call grew louder and louder.

The Doctor removed a fruit peel (courtesy of the rubbish skip) from his boot sole and took a few resolute steps toward the group. “Listen!”

“Amy! Doctor!”

The Doctor stopped mid-step and spun around. Amy did the same. The dingy door next to the skip had opened, and in the doorway stood Rory.

“Rory,” said Amy, knitting her brows. “Where’s the tie? See, Doctor, he got sick of the tie!” 

Rory stepped out into the alley and put his hands into the pockets of his fluffy waistcoat. 

She took a step closer, scrutinised him. “Why are you making that face? Is your hair shorter? Did you get a haircut?”

The Doctor leaned forward and sniffed Rory’s hand, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Future-Rory!”

Amy frowned. “What do you mean ‘future-Rory’?”

The Doctor flailed. “Rory! From the future!”

Amy’s mouth opened a little.

“It’s only a few weeks,” said Rory, his cheeks reddening. “I have to…” He motioned to the tense backs of the locals.

The Doctor stopped flailing and put his hands on his hips, wary. “You have to what? Join them? Stop them? Lecture them? Why are you here? What are you supposed to do?” His eyes grew round. “Oh! I see!”

“What?” said Amy. “What? What do you see? Why is Rory _from the future_ here? What!”

“Maybe… it’s not me the clothes change is protecting.”

Rory approached the locals and cleared his throat for attention. 

No one cared even the slightest.

He cleared his throat again.

A few people stirred, but no one turned.

“OI!” shouted Amy. The last syllable echoed for a long time, overtaking the sound of the approaching Judoon.

The crowd spun around, as one, all quite wide-eyed.

Rory raised his hands. “Hello! My name is Rory Williams.”

And now, there were excited murmurs and quite a lot of staring. Some of the locals’ mouths fell open, too.

The Doctor grinned and nudged Amy repeatedly with an elbow. She nudged back, irritably, not taking her eyes off Rory’s back.

“Don’t worry!” began Rory. “My friends and I will fix this. Why don’t you all head to the bubble farm and see if you can help someone? Just pass through this fruit shop.” He pointed to the backdoor he had emerged from. “I’m sure you’ll find the way from there… You live here, obviously you will.”

The locals murmured amongst themselves briefly, seemed to come to a conclusion… and suddenly they had all shaken Rory’s hand and goggled at Amy and surrendered their weapons to the Doctor and disappeared into the shop.

Amy strode up to Rory and tugged at his yellow jumper. “So… this is a bit weird.”

Rory snorted. “A bit, yeah.”

“You’re from the future!”

“You’re from the past! I like you hat. Still.”

The Doctor noisily dumped the weapons in the skip, and made very sure the backdoor was open. (He was most certainly not eavesdropping.)

Amy reached up and ran a hand through Rory’s shorter hair. “What did – Oh, not already!”

The three Judoon entered the alley by themselves; apparently (and conveniently) they had scanned all the shoppers.

Rory, quite pale now, motioned for Amy and the Doctor to move back.

The Judoon Leader walked right up to Rory, scanned him, and stated, “Assailant confirmed.”

“Yeah,” said Rory. “Hi!”

“You are charged with-”

“Um, shhhh! Just one moment, eh, sir. I have _this_.” He pulled a tattered square of parchment out of a jeans pocket. “It looks a bit… I’ve explained things to your high officer and the Council, and they accepted my apology and told me to give you this. Here.” 

The Leader accepted the parchment and looked at it. Showed it to the other two. Looked at it again. “Case closed.” 

Rory closed his eyes and sighed.

The Doctor sidled up to him. “Any detail you could disclose would be most appreciated.”

“Sorry.” He opened his eyes again. “I could tell you to prepare for what happens now, I guess.”

“What happens now?” asked Amy, rather too loudly.

The Judoon Leader regarded her. “The Doctor has 3359 transgressions to his name.” He pointed to the Doctor. “You.”

“Oh, _now_ it’s me!” The Doctor straightened in a not-at-all-hopeful-way-really.

“According to paragraph 8-delta-7-9-9 you will be-”

“Run!” The Doctor headed for the open door.

 

Rory and River were (finally!) nearing the TARDIS, when a bunch of giggly old ladies came out of nowhere and gathered around them, cooing, “Rory! Amy!”

Rory grimaced; River slipped a hand around his waist and pecked him on the cheek.

An indeterminable amount of time and a truly staggering amount of pinching and pecking later, the ladies were apparently satisfied and toddled off. 

Rory straightened the poor bowtie and rubbed at his numb cheek.

River dusted herself off. “There’s something about you and this place.”

“Yellow men and little old ladies, and… now a space rhino is looking at the bowtie, while standing in front of a bakery. This is a dream, right?” He felt like laughing, but something about the space rhino’s stare stopped him.

“It’s a Judoon!” River obviously didn’t find it very funny either. “They make a business of being in the way.”

This Judoon reached for a communications device of the small, rectangular sort, then turned abruptly and started jogging away from them.

Rory sighed. “It has something to do with this, too, hasn’t it?”

“It _is_ heading roughly for where the Doctor ought to be.”

“Of. Course. It. Is.”

 

A rather long while and too many random alleys later, the Doctor stumbled to a halt next to another inconspicuous-looking backdoor. “Perfect!” 

Amy and Rory leaned on each other. 

“Mind telling us what’s perfect?” asked Amy, panting. “And this running thing – less great when you keep slipping on rubbish and banging your elbows!”

“Argh, I take it back! Not perfect!” The Doctor stared at the closed door, running his hands all over the front of his coat. “The sonic!”


	7. Chapter 7

“Move!” commanded Amy, reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a pair of hair clips. “I’ve got this.”

“It’s an electric lock.” The Doctor pointed to the tiny box next to the door. “And why are you carrying those in your pocket, they should be in your hair!” 

“Did you leave the _sonic with Rory_? And can the electric lock kill me?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Can. It. Kill. Me?”

“Well, not in this century, on this planet. There are safety-”

With that, Amy reached toward the box, flipped its lid open, and stabbed at the colourful, wiry contents with the clips. There were sparks (going everywhere except toward Amy), and noise, and more sparks, and the Doctor hovering and tearing at his hair, and more noise… and the door promptly swung open, very nearly hitting the Doctor on the head.

A short time later, the door was ever-so-slightly ajar, the broken lock cleverly disguised through the use of the travel folders and a hastily chewed piece of gum, and Amy, Rory and the Doctor were hidden around the corner. 

And then came the Judoon. They spotted the slightly ajar door and stopped, which was just what the Doctor wanted. They did not, however, proceed to yank it open and storm into the building. They simply stood still and looked around: this was _not_ what the Doctor wanted.

A quick peek around the corner made this clear to the Doctor. He slunk back to his companions. ‘This is not what I wanted,’ he mouthed.

‘I know what to do,’ mouthed Rory. Then he nodded for emphasis.

The Doctor heaved a dead silent sigh, but spread his hands and leaned back against the dingy wall. Amy merely nodded.

So Rory smoothed out his waistcoat and rounded the corner, as if he’d intended to all along.

The three Judoon stared at him (well, probably; the helmets were very opaque).

“If you’re looking for the Doctor, he went in there.” He pointed to the door. “Um, you’ve read the note… I’ve been to your mothership and your boss said I was very honourable and I think she smiled at me? So, yeah, in there.”

The Judoon Leader motioned, and the two others moved to the door; yanked it open and stormed into the building. The Leader still stared at Rory.

“Yeah,” said Rory, and scratched at his neck.

The Leader thrust a voucher at Rory. “Compensation!”

Rory accepted the voucher, offered a shaky smile – and the Judoon Leader followed the others into the building.

The Doctor, using one of Rory’s shoulders for support, leaped forward and slammed the door shut. “There,” he said, once the door was blocked with some fairly substantial alley debris. “Hope they enjoy fairy lights... and that it takes them a while to find the front door. And, Rory, you really shouldn’t have lied to the Judoon.”

Rory shrugged. “It probably won’t matter.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “Probably?” he asked, in a voice that could have been silky if he had bothered.

“Probably.” He handed Amy the voucher for compensation. “You’d better take this. I want the people here to have it.”

Amy turned it over. “What is it?”

The Doctor shrugged. “A bit of money, or… something. Rory’s right, we should get back to the bubble farm. There are a lot of shocked people to tend to.”

“I’d better not,” said Rory, looking uncomfortable. “River and… me… and an ambulance should be there already.”

“Oh, so we should say goodbye? Or, till we meet again?”

“How about I just leave? Might be less awkward.”

“Hey!” said Amy. “I want to know what’s happened between now and… you. I’m not sure you asked me before you got that haircut.”

“Amy…”

“Come here!” She grabbed his upper arm and held him firmly.

“You’re pinching me!”

“I know! Why did you get a haircut? It would have been less obvious if you hadn’t. And why did you show up like this, going _‘heeey I’m a different Rory’_? You could have just knocked yourself out and taken his place and we would never have noticed!”

The Doctor made an affronted noise. “I would have noticed.”

“You would not!” Amy rolled her eyes at the Doctor, turned back to Rory. “Why did you not just knock on the TARDIS door and tell us? I’ve met myself, I get it.”

“It’s-” started Rory.

“Now you’re off wearing a bowtie and the Doctor is wearing this coat thing and really, is it better than the tweed, I mean look at it?”

The Doctor looked.

Amy glared at the coat. “It is _not_.”

Rory shrugged. “I know this is a bit, well, weird, but it’s not weirder than some of the other stuff, is it?”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“It was you who said it, actually.”

The Doctor leaned rather close to Rory’s ear, and said, “Anything you can tell us.”

“Well, I’m not sure. I know that you don’t actually have to do anything, not until later.”

“Ah, and when is later?” 

“I can’t tell you… Or, I can, apparently, but not much.”

“It’s fine, Rory. Start from the beginning, if that is the right place to start, of course, otherwise you can start wherever you feel is a good place to start. I’m not picky.”

“Shut up, Doctor,” said Amy; she had gone a bit pale.

Rory sighed. “Well, it started when I was alone in the TARDIS. You were all off doing… something, I was the only one there, and then there was a call for help, a signal… and the TARDIS just took off. We ended up here, and I’d never been here before, obviously, and I just did my best, because they really needed help.”

“What were we _off_ doing?” asked the Doctor.

“Um, Doctor… you were busy with… There was this thing; a bit of a rewriting time feud thing between you and… I shouldn’t say that. You know, it was all time and science and… shenanigans.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, urged Rory to continue with a terse sort of gesture.

“So, your opponent…opponents… tried to unwrite this planet, because of my involvement – I really can’t tell you about that. The Doctor created this paradox because I asked him to. You shouldn’t have been here now, but we had to send you here and, yeah. Thought it’d work.” Rory blushed a little and looked down at his trainers. “Didn’t count on the Judoon, really.”

“And Amy? Where was she?”

Rory met Amy’s gaze, smiled slightly. “She and River were busy in a pocket of alternate dimension that sprung up from the coordinates they’d entered into some kind of transporter. Long story. ” 

“What kind of transporter?” asked the Doctor.

“Some ancient technology, it was disguised as a gambling table, which was a bit... It’s sort of our trump card.”

“Oh!” said the Doctor. “ _That_ transporter. Thought I’d lost that!”

“What?” said Amy, very loudly, putting her hands on her hips. “Repeat, Rory, now!”

“Um, gambling table?”

“ _That_ table? That old thing? And the TARDIS was like ‘ _River, Amy, write on this!_ ’”

Rory flinched. “Oh! Didn’t think you’d know about that yet.”

Amy slapped the Doctor on the arm. “Why is your time machine spitting out tables that lead to other dimensions?”

The Doctor didn’t react; he was busy looking thoughtful while fingering his chin. “ _Pocket_ dimension, Amy, whole different matter, shush. Continue, Rory.”

Rory spread his arms. “What? I can’t say any more.”

“Tell me about the paradox.”

“Um…”

“If I’m going to create it, you need to tell me about it. It’s fine.”

Rory pursed his lips. “Well, I suggested the clothes thing. Sorry, Doctor. And to bring you here, the Doctor somehow – I don’t know, sorry – sent the wanted notice and gave these coordinates. I thought I could pass myself off as you, but then the system you used to send the notice automatically generated a stock picture of actual you – you – and a scanner sphere thing was sent to the coordinates, because you’re _you_ , I assume. The Doctor had to come here and spy on it and keep it from trouble and he’s here somewhere right now, keeping other me from running into… this me. I have the worst headache.”

“Wait!” Amy looked weary. “Why would you send the Doctor after something that is out to find him?”

“I’m very good at avoiding scanners,” said the Doctor.

Rory nodded. “And he was the only one who could go. And he’s dressed as me.”

At this, Amy presented a mischievous grin. 

The Doctor eyed Rory and presented distaste.

Rory frowned. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Amy said, “So there are two Doctors here? And two Rorys? And two TARDIS…es?”

The Doctor waved the question away. “Who sent the Judoon after you? They are a part of the paradox.”

Rory rubbed a temple. “River. Future River. This River – the one who’s with other me – only knows what I – this me – told her.”

“And you told her to install that tracker… leading us here.”

“So because we’ve met you, the Doctor has to do all that?” Amy paused, groaned. “And the bowtie… it’s actually useful for once?”

Rory nodded. “Time travel, huh?”

“Why dress up as the Doctor at all? It’s not exactly hard to tell the difference between your faces! Or did you just have to do it because you’ve already been here dressed as the Doctor?”

“I’m not really sure. At least I got to practice being the Doctor. Again.”

A sort-of-but-not-really-amiable silence fell between them, during which Amy stared at Rory and Rory stared at Amy and the Doctor ran his tongue over all of his teeth.

When the Doctor had done that for a long while, he stopped and tapped Rory on the shoulder. “You’re clever.”

“Thank you?”

The Doctor grinned, leisurely. “I know what’s happening now.”

Rory smiled. “I’m sorry you had to lose the bowtie.”

The Doctor frowned, looked down at his grey coat, tugged at it. “Oh, it’s not your fault. Besides, I rather like this jacket – it’s great for shinnying up drainpipes in. It’s cool. I’m cool!”

“You’re very weird,” said Amy, affectionately, and patted him on the arm.

“He’s not really that bothered, you know,” said Rory, still smiling. He looked like he’d quite like to pat Amy’s arm, but didn’t.

“What!” exclaimed the Doctor. “I am really bothered! Really. My bowtie.”

Rory smiled. “You told me you’d say that.”

“Maybe I lied when I told you I’d say that.”

“Maybe you’re not actually four years old, Doctor,” said Amy.

“I’m exactly as childish as I appear to be,” the Doctor said, with a very un-childish glare.

“I should go,” said Rory. 

He and Amy both shuffled uncertainly, until she took a step forward and threw her arms around him. Whispered something. Pulled back.

When she was done, the Doctor did the same thing, sans whisper. “You’re wonderful!” he shouted in Rory’s ear. 

Rory swallowed. “I’m just sorry the people who live here were involved. Apologise from me, please! And make sure that compensation thing goes to the city.”

The Doctor grinned. “We’ll sort it, won’t we, Pond?”

Amy carefully slipped the voucher into a pocket.

There was a muffled roar and a great deal of thumping from the Judoon side of the door. The alley debris was substantial enough, thankfully; the door did not move.

Rory disentangled himself from the Doctor. “Yeah, leaving. Let’s see if I can get this thing to work, this time.” He rolled up a sleeve, revealing a vortex manipulator strapped to the wrist. 

The Doctor raised his brows.

Rory eyed the Doctor. Eyed Amy. Eyed the Doctor again. He turned his back on them while programming it. 

The Doctor huffed.

Rory faced them again. “Well, bye, I guess.” 

“Say hi to future me!” said Amy. “And the pocket dimension!”

“Stay out of trouble,” said the Doctor.

Rory raised a hand. “See you soon!”

Amy and the Doctor waved, and Rory disappeared in a flash of light.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tiny prologue in the next chapter... Wibbly wobbly, and all that. ;)

The Judoon was fast and River was fast and the bowtie was maybe not ideal for running in, after all, but Rory did his best. It was strange how often ‘let’s go back to the TARDIS’ turned into ‘run, run, RUN in a completely different direction’.

The Judoon had headed into a street lined with stalls offering fruit of all kinds, the pounding of his boots merging with the sounds of commerce and (becoming more prevalent) the noises of distress.

“We shouldn’t let him get much further!” shouted River, glancing back at Rory. “ _We_ shouldn’t go much further!”

And then, as if he had heard her, the Judoon stopped. He reached for his communicator. People stared, moved back slightly, pointed.

River and Rory stopped too.

“This is our chance,” said River, pushing hair out of her eyes. “We need to get the people away from the Judoon. Or the Judoon away from the people.”

“Why?” asked Rory, trying to control his breathing.

The Judoon had already replaced his communicator and was looking over the crowd.

River grimaced. “He’ll start interrogating people.”

“Let’s say he’s looking for the Doctor…” said Rory. “If he found him, what would he do to him?”

River narrowed her eyes. “Does that matter?”

“If I could draw his attention, he wouldn’t care about the people, right?”

“Probably not, but you would have his _full_ attention.”

“Let me guess – that’s bad?”

“Listen; I’ll take care of him. Do what you want. He won’t touch you, I promise.” She looked like she meant it. She _really_ looked like she meant it.

Rory swallowed. “It’s a plan.”

“Remember, you’ve got the sonic.”

“I’ve got-” He paused, sighed. Nothing surprised him anymore. “Point and press, right?”

“Right,” said River. She adjusted her jacket and slipped into the crowd.

Rory looked around. Already a few locals were staring at him. Well, if the Judoon was looking for the Doctor, Rory would give him the Doctor. 

He would just… He took a breath. That didn’t help much. (Really, it had been much simpler at home, when Amy had been there, smiling, encouraging him…) He drew back his shoulders, straightened the bowtie. He didn’t have time to be nervous.

Rory approached a few people gathered in front of a stall selling purplish fruit. “You should leave the market right now,” he said, using his most gentle voice.

The people summarily quit considering the fruit and turned to stare at him.

“That fruit is… bad for you.” He fondled the jacket collar a little, couldn’t help to tap his trainer.

“Rory?” asked the oldest person.

“No, I’m not Rory! I have a bowtie!”

“Rory?” asked the youngest.

“I’m the Doctor! Run! Please?” 

“It’s a vegetable, not a fruit,” said a child.

Rory decided it was best to move on, best to make the Judoon see him; so he smiled, sort of bowed, turned unsteadily (completely unintentional) and ploughed through the crowd. 

Then, in the space of thirty seconds, he scared a few chicken-things, patted a few noseless dogs, hugged a few lampposts, snatched and juggled some fruit. Gave an old man’s hat the thumbs up, grinned brightly at an old lady, handed a small child a dropped toy. “You!” he announced, pointing to a young woman. “Be magnificent!”

And here came the Judoon.

Towards him. _Oh, good._ And River was nowhere to be seen. _Even better._

Rory casually opened the jacket and squeezed his fingers into the inner pocket; caught the lumpy end of the sonic screwdriver and fished it out. He realised he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with it. 

Still, the Doctor would… The Doctor would… Rory took a deep breath and marched straight up to the Judoon.

The Judoon stopped, stared at him. At his face. At the screwdriver. At the bowtie.

“I am the Doctor and you are a space rhino and you’re always in the way.” Rory shook a finger. “And you won’t ever be able to catch me! So there!”

Rory envisioned the actual Doctor (past or future or raggedy or whatever) watching from the shadows; mortified or possibly pleased. 

The Judoon reached towards his belt and Rory, startled, pointed the sonic at the closest lamppost and pressed the part he thought he was supposed to press. Surely it would amount to something. 

A nearby quasi-watermelon exploded, to the delight of the chicken-things and the noseless dogs; as bits of pulp fell to the ground, they happily devoured them.

A drop of juice hit Rory on the cheek and he made a noise halfway between a laugh and a whimper. He was quite certain things like this didn’t happen to the Doctor. 

At least the locals got moving, running in all directions; that was always something.

And then he saw River, at the edge of his vision.

The Judoon didn’t seem to care at all about the fact that Rory had made a watermelon explode; he tugged a rod of some kind from his belt and raised it. Pointed it at Rory’s forehead. 

River did nothing, so Rory did nothing.

There was a light and a sound and no particular discomfort; and the Judoon replaced the rod.

And now, River smoothly inserted herself between Rory and the Judoon. Rory tried to pass her the sonic, but she slapped it away. “So, is he the one you’re looking for?” she asked, and Rory privately thought that maybe bluntness wasn’t the best tactic here.

But: the Judoon said, “No.”

River put a hand on her hip. “Just what I thought.”

The Judoon stared at her. “There is a problem?”

“No, not at all,” said River. “Just a little… curiosity.” (Despite seeing nothing but her rather extensive hairdo and the top of the Judoon’s head, Rory _knew_ she smiled.) 

The Judoon stared some more. “What kind of curiosity?”

“How about you meet me in that bar” – she pointed – “at, say, midnight? I can explain it all to you.”

“That is not acceptable.”

“I can’t do it now.” River made a sad little sound. “Midnight. Take it or leave it.”

A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Then the Judoon said, “Midnight.” And then he turned and jogged off. 

River faced Rory. Her eyes glittered.

“What just…” said Rory.

“He scanned you. You’re not a Time Lord.” She patted his cheek. “Still a human in a bowtie.”

“Right.” Rory slipped the sonic back into the pocket, stretched. “I never want to see another scanner again.”

“Thing is, he’s still heading for the Doctor. Run?”

 

There was indeed an ambulance parked in the middle of the shopping street (its side said _the amyrory hospital_ , for some reason). In addition to the many medics, people steadily emerged from the shops with food and drink and blankets and soap.

A great deal of street was illuminated, but it was still, indisputably, night.

The Doctor darted about patting heads and straightening blankets and smiling at people. 

Amy smiled a bit, too. At least the people seemed okay. “Doctor, none of this makes sense,” she hissed, at the first opportunity.

“I think it makes perfect sense,” said the Doctor, between twirls. He grinned. “I know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, great, wonderful, and so on.” She pointed. “Doctor!” 

River and Rory-in-the-bowtie were across the street, waving. Rory looked breathless and mussed and trailed a shoelace (but the bowtie was impeccably straight), and he laughed a little too enthusiastically. And now he started waving at other people, too. 

River looked like… well, River.

The Doctor sighed with relief.

They met by the ambulance, which was wheel-less and vaguely shaped like a barrel. 

The Doctor made straight for Rory, clamping both hands onto his tweed-covered shoulders. “Look at _you_! You’re wonderful! I should make all my companions dress up as me! It could be a test!”

“Yeah,” said Amy, looking and grinning. “Look at you!”

“Eh,” said Rory.

The Doctor grinned “Half a day as me and you’re just a little tousled! And you have lipstick on your cheek!” 

“They thought River was Amy.” Rory sighed. “They wanted pictures.”

“Why does the ambulance have our names on it?” asked Amy. “And why are all these people staring?”

People were gathering around the ambulance, and they were definitely staring quite a lot.

“I wonder that too.” Rory blushed, turned away the best he could. He ran a hand through his hair; Amy watched. Then she lazily wound her arms around him and kissed him on the lips.

The crowd offered a collective gasp.

“We met a Judoon,” said River, completely ignoring everyone who wasn’t the Doctor.

“We met three,” said the Doctor. “Shut them in the fairy lights museum. What did you do with yours?”

“Oh, he’s here somewhere. Presumably gone to let your three out, if his frequent use of the communicator is anything to go by.”

“Hm. We should…”

“Mm. Not least because these people are going to start queuing to see Rory any moment now.”

“Stop it, Ponds,” said the Doctor, swatting. “We’ve got talking to do!”

 

A while later, in the nearest deserted alleyway, Rory made his best grimace and said, “And I thought it was over now.” The Doctor had just held a monologue that had contained the words ‘paradox’ and ‘future-Rory’ far too many times. It was definitely not over.

River pulled out her journal and a pencil, flipped to a seemingly random page and scribbled something. “It hardly ever is,” she offered.

“Thanks,” said Rory.

Amy squeezed his hand. “It’s not all bad. You’re getting a haircut.”

“A haircut?”

“My hot husband from the future told me.” Amy looked at River. “Did you know about the gambling board?”

River shook her head, looking a little forlorn. “No, but I’m not surprised.”

“And you know something and you can’t say it,” said the Doctor.

“Of course. There’s a difference between a single paradox reliant on information, and…” She trailed off, grinned.

“Do you have anything meaningful to add?”

“Just that you should send the notice via the psychic paper. You’ll need it to trade messages with the scanner sphere.”

The Doctor rubbed at an eye, and said, heavily, “I have to create a paradox.”

“Oh, you love it. Wouldn’t have happened if you’d gone sightseeing, like I told you.”

The Doctor glared.

River replaced the journal. “Lucky one of us has a shred of patience. This has been exciting, if not particularly eventful. Rory made a spectacular you. I’m thinking of adding him to my spotter’s guide; might as well, you know.”

“Speaking of that…” Rory tugged hesitantly at the bowtie, unravelled it slowly. “We’re done for now? You can have this back now, right, Doctor?”

“Hm?” said the Doctor.

“Do you want the stupid bowtie back?” Amy supplied helpfully.

“Oh! Keep it. Until we get back to the TARDIS. No, that’s not nice, you can keep it, full stop. You deserve it!”

“That’s all right,” said Rory. “It’s yours, you should have it back.”

“Might want to keep it for future use,” said River, giving him a Meaningful Look and a smirk.

“All right, I’ll keep it. Thank you, Doctor. Do you want the jacket back?”

The Doctor hesitated, looked down at the grey coat, then up at the hat on Amy’s head. (Amy stuck out her tongue.) “Yes,” he said, firmly. “But I’ll let you wear it till we’re in the TARDIS. We should go there now, I think.”

 

“What about the compensation?” asked Amy, when they sneakily passed the ambulance on their way back to the TARDIS. Not one of the locals noticed them (most of them seemed very much recovered now), and there wasn’t a Judoon in sight. 

“Later,” said the Doctor. “We have things to do first!”

Rory took a break from sneaking apprehensive looks over a shoulder and snorted. “There’s the toaster to rewire and a ladder to hold?”

“Exactly!”

“And Amy and I have a game to play,” said River.

Amy grinned. “Can’t keep the pocket dimension waiting!”

The Doctor squinted at Rory. “You look unhappy, Rory. Why do you look unhappy?”

“What?” said Rory. “No, I’m not.”

“No, you look unhappy.”

“I… It’s just that all River and I did was walk and meet a yellow alien while being spied on by you! And I was _scanned_ and it was… And you talked to me from the future. It’s just kind of strange.”

“But now the boring part is over.” The Doctor was quiet for a moment. “What if I made a thing to keep the ladder in place? You can help me in the ceiling.”

Rory sighed. “Will you show me how to use the sonic? Just the basics?”

“Ha! I can, if you want me to. You’ve _got_ the sonic, haven’t you?”

“He does,” said River. She presented the Sour Sour. “And I’ve got this. For you, Sweetie.”

“My favourite!” The Doctor snatched it, licked at it, made a face, then a different face, licked it again; and then he threw it over a shoulder. “They haven’t changed the recipe yet. Too sour!”

The Sour Sour soared through the air, barely visible. And then it fell toward the ground... fell… fell… and bounced ineffectually off a Judoon helmet.

All four of the Judoon were there: three of them still brushed the odd string of lamps from their armour; the fourth was helmetless. “Correction: 3360 transgressions,” said the Leader.

“Run,” moaned Rory.

 

The darkness was complete when they reached the TARDIS; lights were few and far between here, and the cloudy weather meant no star was visible. 

The Judoon hadn’t caught up with them yet, and the Doctor found the key relatively quickly.

The breeze had picked up and Amy clamped the hat down onto her head, her hair streaming behind her, getting in Rory’s face and tangling with the unravelled bowtie. 

They scrambled inside; River kept an eye on the approaching Judoon for a long moment until she slipped inside. The TARDIS was welcomingly quiet. 

The little light that had started it all blinked even more insistently now, though. As soon as Amy lowered her hand, the Doctor snatched the hat and threw it. After that, the light was no longer visible, which was kind of a relief.

Rory folded his arms. “So we’re all just okay with this? Waiting for something to happen? Doctor, aren’t you worried? About unwriting time and all those things you talked about?”

“Yes. But that’s the great thing about time travel.”

“What?”

“Think about what you’ve seen here… Isn’t it exciting?”

Rory thought. There was the Judoon and the sphere, but then there was also the attention he’d got, which was confusing and a bit embarrassing; and then there was Leerd and the statues. And then there was that ambulance. That had been nice. And his future self, fixing things. That was also nice.

River squeezed his shoulder.

The Doctor grinned.

Amy grinned.

Before he knew it, Rory grinned back. It _was_ a bit exciting.

“So!” exclaimed the Doctor, lacing his fingers. “The Judoon will leave once they see us leave, I should think. We appear to have some time before we need to save the Universe… What do you say we come back a little later and make the most of the bubble farm? And I believe we have a lottery ticket to buy and a compensation to hand out!”

Rory frowned. “Won’t the Judoon maybe wait here until you come back?”

The Doctor snorted. “No.” He grinned up at the gaping hole in the ceiling, passed the fallen ladder and positioned himself next to the space/time throttle. 

“Their files – along with everyone else’s – will say that the Doctor doesn’t usually return,” River informed them. “At least not to the same century.”

“What if they find the other you?” asked Rory.

“They won’t,” said the Doctor.

“I’m going back,” said Amy. “You know, want to see the singing houses, not just climb over them.”

“We have to go back”, said River. “Rory’s got an appointment.”

“River’s got a date,” said Rory.

“Yes, well, first things first.” The Doctor fiddled with the controls. “Five days should do it. Should we change clothes now or shouldn’t we?”

“We should,” said Rory, glancing longingly at his own orange cardigan on the console seat.

“Just do it,” said Amy.

“Might cause another paradox if you don’t,” added River.

The Doctor grinned broadly, as if that was just what he wanted to hear. Then he looked from River to Amy. “Would either of you be interested in a bowtie?”  



	9. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rose_griffes [wanted to know](http://honeynoir.livejournal.com/67870.html?thread=206878#t206878) the story behind Amy and River being awesome. This ficlet may be something else entirely, but…

”Uhhh,” stated the Doctor, after randomly stopping and pressing his cheek to one of the many TARDIS roundels. “One of the toasters isn’t working. Must fix it.”

“You have a hundred other toasters,” said Amy. “And you’re blocking the corridor.” 

“But the broken one’s my _favourite_.”

“You know, one of the auxiliary cooling system relays has been acting up for days. Maybe you should fix that first?” suggested River.

The Doctor, still pressed to the wall, sighed loudly. “If you two want to help – and it really would be very nice if you wanted to help – you can go down to the primary kitchen and disconnect the toaster.” With that, he leaned his forehead against the roundel and started to murmur softly.

“Come on,” said River, motioning to Amy. “Best leave him to it.”

“I really don’t feel like being helpful,” said Amy, once they had made it past the Doctor and were heading down the ever-sloping corridor (and _probably_ were out of the Doctor’s earshot). “That toaster never works properly anyway. Last week I got a slice that was half-burnt, half-squishy… with raspberries and marmite _and_ olives.”

River wrinkled her nose. “It was lemon curd and some kind of oil for me. If not to the kitchen,  
where are you going?”

“Don’t care. Thought I’d explore. Rory’s stuck in one of the music rooms. Never seen a bloke so fond of weird alien instruments.”

“If you’re free…” 

“What?”

River stopped and knocked softly on the wall, asking conspiratorially, “Anything more exciting you need help with?”

A bit further down the corridor, a hatch slid open; and a gambling table fell to the floor.

Amy raised an eyebrow. “Well, I didn’t expect _that_. So, the TARDIS needs help with a game, or what?”

River shrugged, headed for the table. “She has her own ideas, sometimes. Let’s go to the library and find out.”


End file.
